Felt Such a Shaking

Kon stops himself about sixty-three times in one week from calling up Rob. He’d just sound like an idiot. “Hey, want to come over to my place? We can watch the paint peel, it’s awesome, really.” No. Just– No.

So when Rob calls *him*, he messes up. “Rob! Wanna– No! Paint!”

“Actually, this is Tim calling,” says Rob. “Paint?”

“I, uh. My apartment. It’s. Why’d you call? Not that I don’t want you to call.”

“Are you inviting me to paint your apartment?” Tim’s silence has a Robin quality, even on the phone. “It might be interesting, it’s not something I’ve done before.”

Kon bashes his head against one of the walls and then remembers the damage deposit and stops. “No. Uh. Unless you want to. Um. Hi?”

Tim’s totally laughing at him. Kon can hear it in the way there’s nothing to hear. “Hi,” he says.

Kon glares at the phone, feeling betrayed. Rob’s even *more* inscrutable, or less scrutable, or something, over the phone. “You have to tell me why you called before I turn into a girl, okay,” he informs Tim.

“What do you mean, before–”

“Dude, I will so hang up on you,” Kon says, which is a total lie, but Tim doesn’t know that. Maybe.

“My parents are gone this weekend. Can you come over?”

Kon stares at the phone. “Uh. You mean–uh?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” And Tim’s voice actually sounds–well, it doesn’t sound nervous, but it sounds like maybe it *could* sound nervous at some point in the vague future, if he wasn’t Robin.

“No,” Kon says hastily. “I’m just–what time do you want me to come over?”

“They’ve already left,” says Tim, because wow. Parents. Definitely Tim. “So you could. You know. Whenever. If you’re not busy.”

Kon looks around his apartment.

Kon tries to think of some smooth way to drop the phone and fly out the window. “Uh. Right. It’s okay if I land in that park, right?”

“Sure, just… approach Gotham from the east, if you can. You’ll show up less.”

“Right. Okay. Okay. I’m going now,” he says.

“See you soon,” says Tim and it makes Kon feel a little better about the fact that hearing Tim’s voice makes him stupid.

Kon has a sudden fear that they’re both going to stay on the phone unwilling to hang up, so he drops the receiver in the cradle. And then stares in horror at his traitorous hand. He just hung up on Tim, what was he thinking? Tim’s going to think… Oh, wait. Tim’s going to think he’s heading for Gotham, and he’s going to be late if he doesn’t start.

Kon lands hard enough to disturb tufts of grass in the park. Tim is leaning against a tree close by, and raises an eyebrow at him. It’s just a stupid, *little* thing, Tim raising his eyebrow, but it makes Kon swallow hard.

Tim looks at him oddly, and Kon realizes he hasn’t said anything. “Uh, hi. So. Um. Are we walking back to your house?”

Tim pushes himself off the tree in a way that makes him look lithe and lean and Robin-like, and–at this rate Kon is going to be hard enough to come the second Tim touches him, and that will just ruin the whole day. He tries to redirect his thoughts to butterflies and fields of grass. Kansas, think of Kansas.

“Yeah. It’s only a block away.” They walk mostly in silence, but it’s not really an awkward silence–or at least, it doesn’t feel that way to Kon. It’s more of a subtly-ogle-Tim-while-they-walk silence.

Maybe kind of a I’m-gonna-have-sex-with-you silence. Tim’s wearing those baggy Tim clothes, which make him look like he’s short, which he is, and puny, which he isn’t. But really, Kon can’t quite figure out why everyone doesn’t know he’s Robin. The slouch, with hands in the pocket, doesn’t that look wrong to them? Doesn’t it look like his arms should be folded, mouth tight?

He’s so distracted that he almost trips over the steps leading to Tim’s door. Tim shoots him an amused look, and Kon fights against his body’s instinct to blush.

“The house is kind of a mess right now,” Tim says as he unlocks and opens the door. “My father is involved in some weird business transaction, so his archaeology stuff is all over the place.”

Tim is so nonchalant that for a minute Kon is worried that he misunderstood, that Tim *didn’t* invite him over to have sex until their brains fall out. But when Kon touches Tim’s shoulder he feels Tim’s body tense under his hand, and his breathing gets quicker.

A wild plan of waiting until the door is closed, turning around and shoving Tim up against it unfolds. Kon would try to pin his wrists, and Tim wouldn’t let him, or maybe he would, but he’d smirk so that Kon knew he was being humored.

But it’s too late, because Tim’s already inside and headed into the house, and Kon doesn’t have the guts to do it.

“Can I get you something? Water? Orange juice?” asks Tim, from around the corner.

Kon swallows.

“No, no, I’m good. I’m not really, uh. Thirsty.” Kon shuts his mouth and resolves not to speak, ever, and follows Tim up the stairs.

Kon really prays Tim’s bedroom is up there, because otherwise–there is no otherwise. Tim’s bedroom *better* be up there.

Kon’s not sure what he’s expecting from Tim’s room. He’s thought about it before but right now all he’s thinking is that it had better have a bed.

“What?” asks Tim, half turning back.

“Nothing, I– Oh, fuck,” he says, and carefully pushes Tim into the wall. Something about the way Tim just melts back against it–

“Fuck,” he says again, putting his hands on Tim’s shoulders and kissing him.

“I– sorry. You just.” Words aren’t working so good, so he tries to say it with his teeth on Tim’s lower lip, with his tongue, and maybe he’s getting some of it across because Tim throws an arm around his neck and pulls himself closer.

Kon’s really glad there’s a wall, because his TTK is doing something funky and he’s not sure where gravity is pulling him. Kon’s kind of sure, kind of, maybe, that if he just nudged Tim a little he’d slide down to the floor, and Kon would float down on top of him and–

“Rugburn,” says Kon, because it’s important to remember that.

“What?” asks Tim, sounding dazed.

Kon realizes he’s got his hand on Rob’s tit, palming it through his shirt, and wow–he hopes Tim doesn’t think Kon’s, you know, looking for a breast there, but it’s kind of addictive to feel the shape of the muscle and the catch of Tim’s nipple.

“You’re really hot,” he tells Tim, and feels like a moron.

He can tell, more by the feel than the sound, that Rob’s laughing at him, but he’s also pressed against him and has one hand in Kon’s hair, clenching and unclenching with the swipes of his tongue.

“We could do this *all week*,” says Kon, coming up for breath.

“I might die,” says Tim, but he doesn’t sound like it’s a bad thing.

In some corner of Kon’s mind, it occurs to him that he could pick Tim up and carry him to somewhere where there’s a bed. But that corner isn’t really as interesting as petting down Tim’s side, and feeling the way it makes his breath shudder.

Suddenly a buzzer goes off and Kon panics, and jumps at the same time Tim does.

Which means they smack their foreheads together *hard.*

“Ow!”

“I bid by dongue!” says Tim. “Crap. The doorbell. How do I look?”

“Ow! Uh. Sexy? Can’t we just ignore it?”

“Could be important,” says Rob, and checks his reflection in the glass of a framed picture hanging in the hall. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. No reason for anyone to know you’re here.”

“You’re– Tim,” says Kon, because it *hurts* him to see Tim like that, flushed and looking like he wants to be fucked and just *ignoring* it. It’s not *right.* “At least let me suck you off.”

The buzzer goes off again.

Tim grins quickly. “Can I get a rain check?”

“But–” Kon says, whines really, but Tim is already gone down the stairs.

“Hey, little brother,” he hears a kind-of-familiar voice say at the door. Tim didn’t say anything about not eavesdropping, so Kon creeps to the top of the stairwell, peeking out from behind the wall.

“Uh,” Tim says, and Kon can’t tell if he’s blushing or if his face is just still red from making out. His lips are definitely still red, and his hair is mussed, and Kon would really like to still be touching him.

“You have the house to yourself, right?” The strange guy squeezes Tim’s shoulders and grins, looking around the room. “Planning on throwing any wild parties while the ‘rents are out?”

“I, well, uh, no,” and that’s Tim actually *stuttering,* and who the hell does Tim stutter around? Maybe it’s just because Tim is distracted by thinking about Kon, or something.

Kon squints. The guy looks familiar, really familiar, and he swears he’s heard that voice before, but he can’t place him. And Tim’s an only child, isn’t he? Is it normal for friends to call each other “bro?” Maybe in Gotham it is. Kon knows he doesn’t really know a lot about how normal kids are supposed to act.

The older guy grins down at Tim and then ruffles his hair, the hell? “Figures you wouldn’t. Why don’t you come down to Blüdhaven for the weekend, instead of sitting by yourself in an empty house and brooding?”

“I–” Tim frowns and gets that line between his eyebrows. “Are there problems in Blüdhaven? Do you need my help?”

Kon’s got a pretty strong suspicion that the guy is whoever Nightwing is when he’s not wearing the black and blue one-piece. But the rest of it’s not making much sense. Is he Tim’s older brother who’s moved out? Does the Drake family breed vigilantes? Are Tim’s mom and dad the stupidest parents ever?

Nightwing laughs and finally lets go of Tim’s shoulders, brushing Tim’s arm in the process, and did Tim’s cheeks just get redder? “Nah, things are as good as they get down there. I just figured that you and me, we haven’t gotten to spend much time together lately. I figured, why not take a couple days and just hang out? Maybe do some training, some manly bonding, that kind of thing.”

And maybe Kon’s a big pervert, but “manly bonding” sounds perverse the way Nightwing says it.

And maybe Tim hears that, too, because he’s definitely blushing more now. “I–I’d love to,” Tim says, sounding incredibly earnest, and Kon feels himself panic and think no before Tim goes on to say, “but I can’t. I–I have plans.”

Dick blinks, looking surprised. “Oh. You do? You’re sure?” He smiles, a little abashed. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get ahold of lately, and I just thought we could, you know…”

Tim looks torn, and Kon wonders if he should feel offended. Your boyfriend (if that’s what Tim even *is*) should want to have sex with you more than they want to do almost anything else, right? Isn’t that how this is supposed to work? Vague plans in the armpit of the East Coast should not be more interesting than orgasms.

He glares at Rob for a second and wishes he had heat vision; then he realizes what he’s thinking and hurriedly covers his eyes. Right, no. Really, it’s a good thing he *doesn’t* have Superman’s powers.

When he opens his eyes, Nightwing is touching Tim’s arm again. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ll have other opportunities.” He smirks, and then suddenly he’s looking right at Kon. “Just curious, though: do your plans have anything to do with your current guest?”

Tim hesitates, for just a second. “Yes,” he says, as if he hadn’t paused. “Was there anything else?”

Whoa. Rob sounds *really pissed*. Kon wonders if he should step out and introduce himself, or just disappear, or do something besides just sitting here, gawking and embarrassed.

“No, listen. Sorry about that,” says Nightwing. “Just letting you know that the cat’s out of the bag, and… well, you know how he is.”

“Was I supposed to send out an *announcement*?” asks Rob. Kon can see his fingers gripping the door frame.

Nightwing sounds gentle. “Hey. Just a heads up. Anyway, the offer to hang out’s always open.”

Tim sighs. “Thanks. Now go away.”

Nightwing guffaws, punches Tim in the shoulder, and then bounds down the steps. Kon can hear the cough and start of a motorcycle. Tim shuts the door.

“Dude,” says Kon. “What the hell was that?”

Tim scrubs his face. “I. My, uh.”

“Nightwing,” prompts Kon.

Tim gives him a look that means Kon’s going to have to explain how he knows about *that* later, but says, “Yeah. Nightwing wanted me to know that Batman knows. About you.”

“Well, of course he– Oh shit! You mean Batman knows we’re having sex!?” yelps Kon. Suddenly, it’s much easier to ignore Tim’s red lower lip.

“He’s either figured it out, or he will soon. I’m really sorry,” says Rob, “I – I’m sorry, I should have. Can we just go back to what we were doing?”

“Dude,” says Kon, and feels like a complete shit, “I don’t- I need to get the bat-glare out my head first.”

“It’s okay,” says Tim, smiling hopefully, “I don’t really want you thinking about Batman while I’ve got my hand in your pants anyway.”

“Did you have to *say* that?” asks Kon, wincing.

Tim grabs Kon’s hand, and tugs him along through the house. He’d kind of been ignoring it the first time through, but it’s a pretty nice place. Not homey, more like a low-key Martha Stewart.

“Here,” says Tim, pulling him into the kitchen. “Dana makes macadamia nut chocolate chip cookies. They’re really good.” He pulls a jar off a counter and offers it to Kon.

“You’re trying to distract me from Batman with *cookies*?” asks Kon, eyeing the jar dubiously, but they do look good.

“Please stop talking about Batman,” says Tim. “I find him almost as much of a turn-off as you do.”

“Almost,” says Kon suspiciously, but eats the cookie. And then another one.

Tim’s staring at him.

“What?” he asks, and tries to brush any crumbs off his mouth.

“You’re in my kitchen. I’ll never be able to eat here again without an erection, but it might be worth it,” says Tim, a little glassily.

Kon blushes faintly. “Yeah, well. I still can’t believe you *have* a kitchen. I swear I thought you lived in a cave.”

“The cave’s just for formal events,” says Tim, and Kon squints at him to see if he’s kidding. He can’t tell at all.

Kon snags another cookie. “Dude. Are these crack-laced or something?”

“Heh.” Tim looks down, and his hair falls over his face. “Not that I know of.”

“Mmm.” Kon eyes the remains of the jar. It’s probably bad etiquette to demolish most of your host’s cookie supply when you’re a guest. He should refrain from grabbing any more.

He’s stuffing the cookie in his mouth when Tim comes over and crowds against him, moving fast. Kon doesn’t fall; he can’t, he’s against the kitchen counter. Tim’s got his hands on the counter on either side of Kon, and someone that much shorter than him shouldn’t be able to move him like that, but Rob doesn’t let things like size stop him.

“Gwah?” says Kon.

“Nothing,” says Tim, grinning, and *watches him eat*, the bastard. Kon chews and swallows as quickly as he can.

Tim kisses the corner of his mouth when he’s done. Just a bare brush of his lips, and it still makes Kon’s dick jump to attention. Kon’s hands clench on the counter top.

“Careful,” Tim says. “Don’t dent it.”

“I–right, right.” Tim is so fucking close, and he moves a little closer and they’re almost touching. He feels Tim’s hand ghost over his side, slip up under his shirt.

“Uh, bed?” Kon croaks.

“Bed, right,” mutters Tim and then traces up the center of Kon’s body, hand under his shirt.

“Or not, really,” says Kon. “This is– Good. Because you know. Kitchens. Veryeee!” he squeaks when Tim’s fingers delicately skate up his side, way too close to his ticklish spots.

Kon jerks back, remembers at the last minute he needs to be careful of the counter, and instead flies up four feet, which is about all the room the ceiling gives him. Tim blinks.

Kon crosses his arms protectively. “I’m ticklish!”

“Maybe the kitchen isn’t the best place for this,” says Tim. “C’mon.”

“No more tickling,” Kon says, and Tim rolls his eyes.

“Stop being a wuss.” Tim smirks at him–for a second Kon sees a resemblance to Nightwing–and turns around. “Are you coming?” he says over his shoulder.

“Is there going to be a bed?” asks Kon hopefully, still floating as he follows Tim through the hall and up a set of stairs.

“What do you think?” Tim says, and Kon has no idea what he thinks because Tim pulls off his shirt as he walks up the stairs, tossing it aside like it’s no big deal that he’s just *stripping*.

He gets to the doorway of his room and unhooks the button of his fly, glancing back at Kon. Kon swallows.

It’s completely unfair that he can look like that, and Kon has to not jump him until they get through the door, because seriously. It’s taking a ridiculously long time to get Tim into bed.

Inside what Kon assumes is his room, Tim looks a little nervous. “So. Uh. Was there anything in particular…”

Kon’s pretty good at making sure he lands where he aims, so he jumps Tim, giving himself a bit of a boost with TTK. Rob goes limp underneath him as they bounce on the bed, then grins up at him.

“Why Superboy, so forceful!” And Kon pretty much has to kiss him to shut him up.

“Have you. I mean, if I wanted– If you wanted, that is. Uh. You know. In the ass?” says Kon, and blushes bright red.

“Are you trying to ask me if I’m interested in penetrative anal sex?” asks Tim. His hair is mussed, and he sounds like a fifty-year-old sex-ed teacher. Only sexy.

“Well, have you?” asks Kon, determined. “Thought about it, I mean.”

“I’ve… experimented with it,” says Tim, and Kon has no idea how one does ass-fucking experiments.

“Experimented?” he asks.

“You know. With a– " at which point Rob clearly runs out of clinical language.

“Dude,” says Kon, mouth dry. “Like a dildo? Oh my god. I. God. Please, you have to let me watch, please, I swear, I’ll – anything.”

“I don’t think it’s really that interesting to an observer,” says Tim, sounding a bit surprised.

“Please. I swear, I will suck your cock *forever.* I’ll. Seriously, anything. Uh. Anything that’s not too freaky,” says Kon, suddenly wondering what he’s committing to.

Tim snorts.

Kon doesn’t know what he was imagining, but when Tim pops a ceiling tile and pulls out a box, the dildo inside it is fluorescent orange.

“It’s orange,” he says.

“Is that going to be a problem?” asks Tim.

“Uh no. No. It’s. Um.” It’s not huge, which is kind of a relief, because. Well, it’d be a bit intimidating, is all. Kon swallows. “So… what do you. Uh.”

It’s *orange*, which should be goofy but it’s making Kon’s mouth dry. Because Tim–Tim *uses it to get off.*

Tim takes a small bottle of lotion out of the box, and Kon gets off the bed to give him room. He backs into the dresser and stops–he’s not sure where he’s supposed to be.

Tim unbuttons his pants, and pushes them off, along with his boxers. For a second, Kon thinks that maybe he wasn’t wearing underwear, but no. Tim doesn’t look up at him as he kneels on the bed.

He rolls the bottle of lotion in his hand. Tim raises his eyebrow again, and Kon has to reach down and squeeze his dick. Tim’s eyes flick down to what Kon’s doing with his hand, and then flick back up to meet Kon’s eyes.

“You really want to watch me?” he says, his voice suspicious, as if he expects Kon to yell “Psych!” and point and laugh.

“Take– Would you normally take off your shirt?” asks Kon, a little hoarse. “I want to see–” Tim looks so vulnerable that Kon can’t help leaning forward and kissing him.

Tim kisses back, touching Kon’s jaw with his thumb, and then pulls away. “I–” Tim’s voice sounds rough, and his Adam’s apple dips when he swallows. “Yeah, sure. Just let me–”

“Right, right.” Kon backs away again, and Tim tugs off his shirt. He squirts lotion onto his fingers and watching him rub slick over the hard plastic of the dildo is almost more obscene than watching Tim push two slippery fingers into his own ass.

Then he lies down on his back, spreading his thighs, and Kon has trouble breathing. He has to squeeze his dick again, and Tim glances at him but then looks away, staring up at the ceiling. *Focusing,* and it’s like he’s completely forgotten Kon’s even there. Tim spreads his legs wider and takes his fingers out, then pushes the end of the dildo against his hole.

Kon takes a step forward without meaning to. Tim doesn’t look at him.

“Tim,” he says, and doesn’t know what he was going to say.

Tim just keeps pushing in, the muscles in his legs and ass clenching. He’s still staring at the ceiling, his jaw working, and his whole body shudders when he gets most of it inside him.

He takes a deep breath, and–damn, Tim *breathing* shouldn’t be that sexy, shouldn’t be the thing Kon focuses on when Tim has half a dildo shoved up his ass, but it is. And then Tim bites his lip and Kon has to undo his fly and shove his hand down his pants.

“Jesus, Tim–oh–” Tim lifts his hips, working his ass slowly against the hard plastic, and it’s just–Kon can’t stop staring. Tim has his dick in his other hand but he’s not even jerking himself off, he’s just running his thumb slowly over the head. His hips are moving in a steady rhythm, fucking himself, and Kon shoots pre-come on his fingers.

“Rob,” he says, stumbling forward, “Rob,” and Tim turns his head and meets Kon’s eyes. “You’re fucking *amazing*,” says Kon with feeling.

“You–” says Tim, and Kon realizes he’s got one hand on Tim’s foot, curled around his ankle.

“Would– " Kon wants to ask, ‘If it was me, would you make noise?’ because Tim is so silent, but it feels weirdly personal, even more personal than this.

“Please don’t stop,” he says instead.

Tim’s hips rise again. “Is it… Is this what you wanted?” he asks, sounding breathless.

“Can I jerk you off?” asks Kon. “I mean–while you’re doing that.” He’s not sure why he’s asking permission; Tim’s pretty much okay with Kon shoving his hands down Tim’s pants any time they can get some time alone. But Tim’s letting him see this, and.

“Yeah,” says Tim, “Yeah, okay.”

Kon gets on to the bed. Tim pushes his calf against Kon’s thigh where he’s kneeling, and Kon has to pet his knee for just a second.

“Can you turn on your side?” asks Kon.

Tim turns, and this way the line of his shoulder and arm are like… something really good. Gorgeous. Tim’s sweating lightly, and when Kon lays himself down alongside him, he licks Tim’s collarbone, and Tim jerks.

“Ow,” says Tim.

“Sorry! Sorry, are you okay? Sorry–”

“No, no I’m– good,” says Tim, “Just–”

Kon figures a handjob is a pretty good apology, or maybe he’s making excuses, because Tim’s still got his hand on his cock and it’s *hurting* Kon the way he isn’t jerking off, even a little.

Tim shivers when Kon strokes him, covering Tim’s hand with his own. And when Kon moves his hand lower, cupping Tim’s balls and then touching the dildo, Tim doesn’t move to stop him.

Tim’s eyes are closed, and when Kon says, “Um. Can I?” he just nods, letting go to clutch at Kon’s bicep.

And Kon just–he doesn’t know if he can *deal* with that. He kisses Tim messily and gets a solid grip on the dildo, finds a good rhythm. Then Tim’s moving against him and Kon’s dick is rubbing against Tim’s hip and there are all these slick noises, and Kon kind of wishes that it were him inside there but then he’d be too distracted to *watch.*

And it’s definitely a show. Kon pushes the dildo further inside him and Tim throws his head back, and his neck is all–it’s just right *there,* and his hips are moving in a way that’s driving Kon crazy. When Kon moves to touch his face, Tim muffles a yell–or a whimper, or a growl, or just the sexiest sound Kon’s ever heard–against his palm.

And comes all over Kon’s dick and his chest.

“Oh, *fuck* me, Tim–” Tim’s lips are still pressed against Kon’s wrist, and when he breathes Kon can feel it. It makes whatever Kon was going to say die in his throat.

Tim meets his eyes. “Do you want me to?”

Kon says a word that might be “fnrgh.” And then Tim reaches around and squeezes his ass and Kon whimpers and loses it, coming half on Tim and half on his bed sheets.

This is going to be a mess to clean up. Kon rests his forehead on Tim’s shoulder.

“Uh. Maybe. Yeah. Sometime,” he croaks, belatedly answering Tim’s question.

Tim reaches behind himself and pulls out the dildo. Kon had forgotten how *orange* it is.

“Was there–um. Did you pick the color?” Kon asks, from morbid curiosity.

Tim rolls his eyes, but his face is soft. Kon can’t really make himself not pet Tim’s arm.

“You okay? It looked uh. Uncomfortable.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to patrol like that,” says Tim, and Kon *feels his brain break* “but otherwise it’s not … uncomfortable.”

Tim rolls off the bed with the same agility as ever, so he must be okay. “Just a sec,” he says, and disappears down the hall, naked. It’s his house, so it’s not weird, except it totally is.

Kon hears a shower start, and jumps off the bed, super-speeding to the bathroom. Tim gives him a surprised look.

“Dude, after sex you’re supposed to shower *together,*” Kon says. Although it’s not like he really knows that kind of stuff; it just seems like something that should be true.

“Oh. Um. Okay. I just didn’t think–”

“It saves water,” Kon points out, and Tim smiles.

***

“Dude. First cookies, now ice cream?” Kon gives Tim a suspicious look. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”

Tim gets that annoyed look on his face that Kon secretly tries to get him to make as much as possible. “Yes. It’s my secret evil plan. What, you aren’t hungry?”

Kon’s starving. Tim must have figured out by now that Kon has a metabolism closer to Bart’s than a normal teenage boy’s. He grabs the bowl of chocolate ice cream Tim holds out.

It’s pretty much his idea of the perfect day. He feels nicely tired, tingly with the best kind of exercise, and there’s something in the pit of his stomach that he doesn’t want to look at too closely, but feels like happiness. If only Tim’s couch wasn’t leather. “I feel like I’m going to drop something on the couch and it’s going to cost a gabillion dollars in dry cleaning.”

“It won’t cost a gabillion dollars because gabillion is not a real number.” Tim eats his ice cream neatly, eating small spoonfuls at a time, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips clean after every bite.

Kon has chocolate ice cream all over his mouth and chin. “Still,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“And if you do, it doesn’t matter. I have secret bat-methods of getting out stains.”

“Bat-stain-remover, hunh?” says Kon. It’s the good chocolate ice cream, all thick and creamy. Sweet.

Tim nods as if he weren’t totally making it up. “He can get blood and engine oil out of my cape, so I wouldn’t worry.”

“Didn’t we have a no-talking-about-Batman-when-I’m-naked rule?” Kon goes after the melted ice cream in the bottom of his bowl a little too aggressively, and ends up dripping chocolate ice cream on his chest. “Oops.”

“Hold on, let me get a paper towel…”

Oh, for– “Dude. Have you never watched even a little bit of porn?”

Tim gives him a blank look. “What?” Kon stares at him incredulously and gestures a little at his chest. Tim blinks at him.

Kon rolls his eyes. Well, at least Tim can get ice cream out of leather. Kon carefully gets another spoonful of ice cream and dabs it on Tim’s collarbone.

Tim hisses. “That’s cold!”

“But my mouth is warm,” Kon promises, with a leer.

“What are you even doing?” Tim says grouchily, and then makes a weird gurgling sound when Kon leans forward, licking at the ice cream.

“You–oh.” Kon pushes Tim until he’s lying flat on his back on the carpet, and rolls off the couch to lie next to him. The ice cream is dripping down his chest now, pooling in his abs, and Kon slurps it up.

Tim squirms, and pokes Kon in the eye with his ribcage. “But that’s *sticky.*”

Kon rolls his eyes and uses his TTK to press Tim to the floor. “It’s *sex.* It’s *supposed* to be.”

Tim spasms when Kon licks his stomach. “That! Um. Is cold.”

Kon’s pretty sure Rob was going to say “tickles,” but he’s too busy getting ice cream into Tim’s treasure trail to care much.

***

The TV is showing a rerun of Wendy the Werewolf Stalker, so Kon turns up the volume. It’s a good one, the one where Wendy’s dad dates a woman who everyone thinks is a werewolf, but it turns out she’s really just Norwegian.

“Do we have to watch this?” asks Tim.

“Yes?” says Kon. “Have you seen it before?”

“No, I’m not really–”

“Then you have to watch it.”

Tim arranges himself so his head’s in Kon’s lap. Kon’s not really sure he can see the screen from there, but he’s not going to tell Tim to move.

But it turns out Tim can see the screen, because he keeps a running tally of all sins against martial arts.

“Why is she doing that? She doesn’t have any momentum; she’s going to throw herself through the wall if she does that.”

“Dude, no one cares about physics.”

“Physics *literally* makes the world go around, Kon.”

“It’s TV!” says Kon, but doesn’t really mind.

“I think the body double is actually a man,” says Tim, which kind of ruins a few of Kon’s fantasies, although it really shouldn’t.

“Really?” he asks.

Tim squints. “Or… No, maybe just forty pounds heavier.”

Kon pets Tim’s hair. “You’re a freak.”

Tim makes a slightly annoyed sound. “I’m just *saying.*”

He jumps when Kon swats his ass. “Dude, watch the episode. It’s a metaphor for how Wendy misses her real mom, see? And all this stuff comes up in the next season when her dad dies. It’s totally sad.”

Tim seems weirdly interested in the school scene, which figures.

“Why does everyone quote Machiavelli when they want to make sure you know they’re evil?” he asks. “Nietzsche would work, you know.”

“I’m sure he would,” says Kon. “But you’re wrong. He’s not evil, he turns out to be– Do you want me to spoil you?”

Tim glares at the TV. “…No, don’t.”

Kon sits up. “You mean you want to watch the rest?”

“Well, Cassie has them, doesn’t she? We could borrow them and watch them some time.”

Kon is close to nodding off by the time the episode is over, and he doesn’t wake up until Tim sits up, stretching. Kon blinks hard and shakes his head, clears it. He still has to fly back to Metropolis.

“So… it’s getting late,” he says, because he doesn’t really want to leave yet, and could be talked into staying a little longer.

Instead, Tim is silent, which Kon guesses is a hint.

“I… guess I should be going, then. You know. Don’t want to fall asleep in mid-air.”

“You could… You could stay,” says Tim.

“Well, I’ll just get more tired when I have to– Stay?”

“You know. I could find you a toothbrush, probably,” says Tim, one thumb rubbing Kon’s hip bone.

Kon’s about to say that they could probably share toothbrushes at this point, but what if it grosses Tim out, so he says the other thing in his brain, which is ,“Uhhh.”

“Or not,” Tim says, and the thumb goes away which is just–wrong.

“No!” Kon says hastily. “I mean. Uh. I’m not sure? Is it really okay for me to stay the night?”

“I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise,” says Tim, which duh, is totally true. And means…

“Oh, right! I mean. I’d. Love to.”

“Good,” says Tim. “Right.”

Tim’s at a loss for words, which Kon gets, because he’s kind of… “So by spend the night, you mean with you, or…” kind of about to blurt out something stupid, apparently.

The tops of Tim’s ears go pink. “Uh. Do you *want* to sleep on the couch?”

“No! No, um. I mean. Unless the couch is super comfortable. Heh.”

That wasn’t a good joke, and Tim doesn’t think so either because he’s kind of not looking at Kon.

“That was a bad joke,” says Kon, hurriedly.

“Yes, kind of,” agrees Tim, but he doesn’t sound pissed.

“Sorry. I haven’t ever. Slept with. It’s new,” says Kon, and hopes Tim gets what he’s saying without him actually having to *say* it.

Tim leans into him. “Well, I slept with Batgirl once. But that was mostly the hypoxia. And I mean ‘slept with’ in the most literal possible interpretation.”

And wow, that is so an image to save for the spank bank.

Kon hesitantly puts an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “How do you know I don’t snore?”

Tim gives him a look. “I don’t.”

Somehow, with the prospect of sharing a bed with Tim, Kon’s not sleepy, but he is a little eager for bed.

“I guess you have to be sure. I mean. You need to witness it.”

Tim smirks. “You don’t need to try and seduce me, you know. I’m already sleeping with you.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun.” Kon grins. “So… bedtime?”

“You’re incredibly transparent, you know that?”

“I’ll work on it,” says Kon, because *score*.

He’s not sure if Tim gives him the look on purpose or not, but when Tim walks out of the room, Kon’s powerless not to follow.